Upon a Midnight Clear
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: "Angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold." For Cosette, Marius, and their three children, one Christmas brings moments of both joy and sadness.
1. Chapter 1

From a writer who doesn't celebrate Christmas, here is a very Christmas-y fic that I hope will give you warm fuzzy feelings. It draws from both the book and the play, and I also take a few historical liberties. Some of the Christmas customs here actually weren't widely practiced in France at the time (decorating a tree, for example).

This can be considered a sequel to my one-shot _Generations_ , since Marius and Cosette have the same children here as they did in that story, but it can be read independently, too.

For my own reference: 99th fanfiction, 23rd story for _Les Miserables_.

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Angelique dragged her feet as she walked home behind her father and siblings. It was Christmas Eve, and they were coming back from church. Her papa was walking just ahead of her, holding hands with her little brother Ultime, who was five, and carrying her little sister Madeleine, who was four, on his hip. Her mama couldn't come to church with them; she was at home, lying in bed, where she'd been for the past week.

It was Christmas Eve, but it didn't feel like Christmas at all. It was the saddest, gloomiest Christmas that Angelique had ever known. Her mama was supposed to be having a new baby. For the last several months, Angelique had watched Mama's stomach grow bigger, and helped her prepare the nursery, and imagined what it would be like having a new baby brother or sister. Mama and Papa had settled on names — Georges for a boy, and Joséphine for a girl — and their whole house had been bustling with excitement and plans and hopes for the future.

The new baby wasn't supposed to come until January, but something had gone wrong, and instead, the baby — it was a boy, Baby Georges — had been born just last week... and he'd died almost immediately. That had been the very worst, most terrifying day of Angelique's life. It frightened her to even remember it now. She'd been sitting in the parlor, writing a letter to Père Noël at the North Pole, telling him what she wanted for Christmas, when she suddenly heard Mama scream. It was the most terrible sound, loud and full of pain, and Angelique had run upstairs to Mama and Papa's room, to see what was wrong, but in the hallway outside their room, she'd found Papa and their maid, talking in hushed voices.

"...already put a kettle of water on to boil, Monsieur," Toussaint was saying. "Shall I go for a doctor?"

"No, I've already sent for one," Papa answered. He was wide-eyed and white as a sheet, which only frightened Angelique more. "But I think I'd better send for a priest, too. I'm afraid that—"

He stopped short when he saw Angelique. She desperately wanted him to reassure her, to tell her that everything was all right and Mama would be fine, but he didn't. He said, "Toussaint, you must get the children out of here. Take them to the park, or my grandfather's house. They can't be here for this." And Toussaint had gathered her, Ultime, and Madeleine, and hurried them out of the house almost before they could even put on their coats.

When they finally returned, much later that day, their house felt different — heavy and sad, as if all the hope and excitement that had been growing there for months was now blown away by the cold winter wind. There was a doctor with a long black coat and a very grim face in the hallway, talking to Papa. Angelique overheard him say, "...lost a great deal of blood, I'm afraid... may need to be hospitalized." At those words, her stomach dropped straight to the floor, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Later, Papa gathered her, Ultime, and Madeleine all in the parlor and explained, very gently, that their little brother, Baby Georges, had gone up to heaven. It just happened sometimes with babies, Papa said — they were born too soon, and they went to heaven to be with God. He said that Mama was very sick and would need to stay in bed and rest until she was well again. He didn't say how long that would take, and Angelique worried that it would be a very long time. Ultime and Madeleine listened and nodded, as if they understood all this, but Angelique knew that they didn't, really, not in the same way that she did. They were so much littler than her.

She, Ultime, and Madeleine all bowed their heads and prayed for their baby brother to rest in peace and for their mama to get better soon, and then Papa hugged and kissed each of them, and Angelique felt a bit better.

But later that night, after Ultime and Madeleine were asleep, Angelique heard Papa crying. She'd never seen or heard her papa cry before, and it made her feel scared and uncertain, as if the whole world had turned upside-down.

Since then, a nurse had come every day to tend to Mama, who was occasionally well enough to sit up in bed and eat broth, but was still sore and sweaty and feverish much of the time. Papa and Toussaint were beside themselves with worry over her, and Angelique was too, but she tried to be brave. She reminded herself that she was a big girl now, nine-years-old, and she let Ultime and Madeleine play with her toys and kept them quiet and occupied, so that they wouldn't bother Papa or make too much noise and wake Mama.

That was why Angelique dragged her feet as they walked home from church. She didn't want to return to the miserable place that her house had become. It looked more miserable than ever now, with its dark curtains drawn over the windows like closed, dead eyes. Her heart burned as she looked at the houses on their street, all with glowing, golden-lit windowpanes. Many were decorated with cheerful springs of holly or strings of garland. Others had red and green candles burning merrily on the windowsills, and some framed big, finely-decorated Christmas trees. Their own house had no Christmas tree, nor even any garland or candles. Everybody had been so busy taking care of Mama and holding a funeral for Baby Georges that there had been no time at all for Christmas this year. Angelique was beginning to suspect that there would be no presents tomorrow morning, and that Père Noël was just a lie that grown-ups told.

Their next-door neighbors also had a nine-year-old girl, Victoire, and she and Angelique were friends. As they passed by her house, Angelique tugged on Papa's coat. "Papa," she asked, pointing. "Victoire's family is having a fête tonight, for Christmas. She said I was welcome. May I go?"

Marius turned and looked. Victoire's parents certainly were hosting a fête. He could see that clearly through their front windows: adults talking and sipping wine, children running about, playing and laughing. Angelique deserved to have some fun. "All right, darling," he said, "but mind your manners, and don't overstay your welcome."

"Yes, Papa," Angelique answered obediently. She waved and started down the front walk to Victoire's house. She waited until Papa and her siblings were inside their own house before she turned away and started walking down the dark street.

Angelique knew that she wasn't supposed to be out alone after dark, but she didn't want to go to Victoire's house. She didn't want to see all those happy, smiling people and all those shining ornaments on the Christmas tree. The past week had been so sad and strange and confusing, and Angelique was tired of always trying to be brave, trying to set a good example for Ultime and Madeleine. She wanted some time alone to feel sorry for herself — and so she walked down the street in the dark, pitying herself and trying to sort out her feelings. She felt angry, and it was an uncomfortable, confusing anger, because she still didn't quite understand what happened or who was to blame.

She was angry at Baby Georges, she finally decided, and she knew that it was terribly naughty of her to be angry at her poor dead baby brother, but she was. She was angry at him for being born too soon, and for dying right after, and for hurting their mama so much.

Angelique suddenly stopped walking when she saw strange, dark shapes lying on the curb at the end of their block. It was early in the evening, but already as dark as midnight, and the big, strange shapes were scary, but her curiosity won out, and she came closer. Why, they were only Christmas trees! Angelique remembered now: there had been a stand on this corner, a stand selling trees, but now that it was Christmas Eve night, the men must have closed down the stand and left these last few unsold trees out on the curb.

The idea spread all through her, warming her sad heart and making her fingertips tingle. She could take one of these trees home! She found the smallest tree in the pile, flung her arms around it, and began hauling it back down the street. She would take this tree home, and she and Ultime and Madeleine would decorate it together, and it would make tonight feel like Christmas. It would make things right again. Everyone would be so surprised when she brought it home. Everyone would be _happy_ , for the first time in so long, and perhaps Mama would even feel well enough to get out of bed at last.

But Angelique hadn't gone far before her energy and enthusiasm flagged. This was the smallest tree from the pile, and even it was very heavy. Its branches dragged along the ground through the snow, and its pine needles pricked at her. Angelique set it down and looked down the street towards her house. She had still had quite a long way to go. She wiped her brow and looked down at the tree, discouraged. How would she ever get it home?

Suddenly, Angelique looked up. A large, black shape was standing close beside her in the darkness. She turned her head. It was a man who had come up behind her. Angelique had not seen him approach. She had not heard his footsteps crunching on the snow. She peered up into his face. He was an old man — as old as Grandfather Gillenormand, she guessed — with solid white hair, wearing a strange old yellow coat.

Angelique had never seen this man before, but she was not afraid.

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So, how'd you like the first chapter? More to come. :)


	2. Chapter 2

I've loved reading your reviews and speculations about the end of the first chapter. I hope that you'll all enjoy this one. Some of you guessed right. :)

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"My child," the strange old man said to Angelique, his voice very deep, "what you are carrying is too heavy for you."

Those were the exact same words that he'd said to Cosette, on a Christmas Eve long ago, and she had ducked her head, answered timidly, "Yes, monsieur," and handed the heavy water-bucket over to him. But Angelique was hardly the meek little girl that his Cosette had been. She was fearless and stubborn, and his words only made her more determined to carry the tree home and prove him wrong. She pursed her lips, gathered her strength, tightened her grip, and dragged it a few more feet before she had to set it down again.

She hadn't even answered him, but the old man was not bothered by this. Indeed, he had expected it from her. He knew Angelique very well. He had been watching over her since the day she was born. He followed after her and said, "Give it to me, and I'll carry it for you."

Angelique was very independent, but she knew that she couldn't get this tree home by herself, so she said, "Thank you, monsieur," and let him maneuver it out of her arms and into his own. "Put your mittens back on, child," he told her, once her hands were free again. "I don't want you catching a chill."

Angelique had taken off her mittens to get a better grip on the tree with her bare hands, but they were still hanging down from her neck by their string. Mama had crocheted them herself, bright red mittens with a long string tying them together, because Angelique would lose them otherwise. Her scarf had come loose too, while she was carrying the tree, and was now barely hanging onto one shoulder.

What happened next felt so curious. As Angelique pulled her mittens back on, the old man crouched down to her level. He pulled her hat down a bit lower, retied her scarf so that it was high and warm around her neck again, and brushed the snow off her coat. It was the same way that Mama fussed over after she'd been out playing in the snow: the same gestures in the same order, and he'd even said the same words that Mama always said, _I don't want you catching a chill_. It felt odd to see Mama's motions in somebody else — so odd that for a moment, Angelique simply stared at him, blinking, until he held one hand out to her and said, "Come, child."

She slid her hand into his, even though she didn't see how he would carry the tree with only one free arm. But he did. He reached in through the branches, grabbed hold of the trunk, and lifted the whole tree clear up off the ground. Angelique's eyes widened a bit. He was terribly strong for someone so old, stronger even than Papa. They set off down the street together, and she never noticed that he hadn't even asked her which way her house was.

Angelique knew that she wasn't supposed to be this trusting with strangers, but even though she'd never seen this old man before, he didn't feel like a stranger at all. Something about him felt very familiar. As they walked along, she volunteered, "I'm taking this tree home for my little brother and sister. We couldn't get a tree earlier because..."

But her voice faded away uncertainly. As much as she liked this strange man, she didn't want to tell him about what had happened with Baby Georges. She didn't want to talk about that to anyone. She looked down at the snow, suddenly sad again.

The somber look on her face pained his old heart, and he squeezed her hand. Her little hand fit perfectly in his, just like Cosette's had years ago. He said softly, "I had a feeling that you've been having a hard time of things lately."

She peered up into his face, curious. "H... how did you know that?"

"Oh, I could just tell from looking at you. I used to have a little girl like you."

He said _used to_ , and for a moment, Angelique thought that his little girl had died. But then she realized that he was so old that his little girl must be an adult by now. "Is she grown up now?" she asked him. "Your little girl?"

The old man smiled. "Yes, she's all grown up now, and she has children of her own."

Angelique felt a sudden stab of jealousy of those children. How nice it must be for them to have this old man for their grandfather. She loved her Grandfather Gillenormand, of course, but this man had such a pleasant warmth to him; she wished that he could be her grandfather, too.

He gently pulled her in closer to his side. "Watch your footing here," he cautioned. "There's a patch of ice coming up."

Angelique carefully tiptoed around it. She remembered noticing that ice-patch a few days ago, but she'd forgotten about it. How did this old man know where the ice-patches on their street were? Could he live in their neighborhood? Perhaps that was why he seemed so familiar.

She peered up into his face again, looking closer this time. "Do you live near here, monsieur?"

But he shook his head. "No, not anymore. I live rather far away now. I just came down to Paris for a visit."

He said _came down_ , and Angelique knew it meant that he'd traveled south. He must live in some part of France north of Paris.

Home had seemed so far away when she'd looked down the street alone, but in no time at all, they reached Angelique's house. As excited as she was to get this tree inside and decorate it with her siblings, part of Angelique was sad, too. She had liked walking with this man so much. She didn't want to say goodbye to him yet.

"Thank you so much, monsieur," she said as he stopped and leaned the tree against their front gate. She didn't notice that she hadn't even told him that this was her house.

"Give me no thanks, child. There's something you can do."

Angelique stared, surprised. What favor could she possibly do for him?

Her hand felt so warm in his. She didn't want him to let go of it, but he did. He crouched down to her level and put both hands on her shoulders. From here, he had a good view of the necklace that she wore — the same little string of pearls that had been the first jewelry he ever gave Cosette. How his heart had ached for Cosette over these past days. Even his own death, over ten years ago now, had not been as hard on her as losing that baby. How he longed to go to her and comfort her, but he knew that she wouldn't have been able to see him. Only a child as young as Angelique still had that gift.

"Angelique," he said, and she didn't notice that she'd never told him her name. "I need you to tell your mama that I wished her a merry Christmas. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, monsieur," she nodded, but then a wonderful idea came to her. "But why don't you come inside and tell her yourself, monsieur?"

But the old man shook his head sadly. "Oh, I do want to, Angelique, but I can't," he sighed. "That's why you must do it for me."

She supposed that he was right because after all, Mama still didn't feel well enough to have any visitors. "Well, you can still come inside with me," she offered. She spun around, lifted the latch, and flung the front gate open, saying, "I'm sure my papa would like to thank you for carrying the tree here, and you can warm up by the fire, and Toussaint could make you a cup of tea, and — "

Angelique stopped abruptly when she turned back around and saw that the kind old man had disappeared. "Monsieur?" she called, looking up and down the street, but he was nowhere to be seen. She frowned, puzzled. Where had he gone? And how could he have gotten out of sight so quickly? But then, he had been very strong, so perhaps he was very fast too, and had just remembered that he needed to be somewhere. Grown-ups were always doing strange things.

Still, she sighed sadly on the empty street, she wished that old man had come inside with her. She would've loved for Ultime and Madeleine to meet him.

But then her excitement over finally having a Christmas tree to decorate returned. She couldn't wait to show it to everybody! She turned and flew up the walk to the front door, and in her hurry, she never noticed that although the old man had vanished, there were no footprints leading away through the snow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Empyreal:** ( _noun_ ) heaven; in particular, the highest part of heaven in ancient cosmology; ( _adjec._ ) 1. belonging to or deriving from heaven; heavenly, celestial; 2. formed of pure fire or light; radiant, glowing.

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Papa was rather taken aback when Angelique burst into the parlor exclaiming that she'd brought home a Christmas tree. But Ultime and Madeleine begged him to bring it inside and set it up, and when Papa said that he would, all three children cheered. But they fell silent immediately when he snapped at them — which he almost never did — saying, "If you three can't decorate it quietly, then there isn't going to _be_ a tree at all. Your mama's resting."

The tree was still leaning against the front gate where Angelique had left it, and Papa brushed the snow off and hauled it up the walk and into the house. Angelique, Ultime, and Madeleine followed along behind him, whispering excitedly to each other. Her little brother and sister were so impressed with her for bringing home a tree on Christmas Eve night, and it made Angelique feel just like Père Noël to surprise them like this.

But when they got back inside the house with the tree, an even bigger surprise was waiting for them in the parlor. Mama was there, up and out of bed for the first time since Baby Georges had been born. The children's eyes opened even wider, and delighted smiles slowly spread on their faces. There was color in Mama's cheeks again, and her eyes were tired but clear and focused.

"Cosette..." Papa said, astonished, dropping the tree to the floor with a heavy _thump_. "W... what are you doing up? Are you..."

Mama was standing in the doorway from the hall, steadying herself with one hand against the frame. She gave Papa a tiny smile. "I'm feeling much better today, Marius. I heard so much excitement down here, and then I realized tonight's Christmas Eve, isn't it? Where did the tree come from?"

"Angelique found it!" Ultime cried, jumping up and down with excitement, and Angelique blushed with pride. "She found it and brought it home!"

"Help us decorate it, Mama," Madeleine pleaded, tugging on her dressing gown.

But Mama shook her head. "No, but I'll sit here and watch you decorate it, darling," she said. She pointed to the divan, and Papa rushed forward to help her to it.

Her steps were slow but steady as she held onto his arm and carefully sat down. Papa made sure that she was comfortable, and then he stood the tree up in its stand, straight and tall, and fetched the box of ornaments down from the shelf in the closet. He set it on the ottoman, and when he pulled the lid off, and Angelique saw the silver and gold baubles glistening and her little brother and sister's eyes shining, a warm feeling spread through her, and for the first time all winter, it actually felt like Christmas.

Papa put some more logs on the fire while the children danced around the tree, hanging up ornaments. "I found the rocking horse!" Madeleine exclaimed, pulling the tiny silver rocking horse on its red ribbon out of the box. "This is my favorite ornament." And Ultime exclaimed a moment later, "And here's the one that looks like a snowflake! We got this one last Christmas, I remember." Mama was very quiet, but she watched them with a smile on her face, and the fire crackled merrily, and Toussaint brought in steaming mugs of tea and hot chocolate for everyone.

One of the ornaments was a little angel, and when Madeleine came to it, she held it in her hands for a moment, tracing the angel's wings with one finger. Then she went over and sat down on the divan beside Cosette.

"Mama," she asked, "is Baby Georges an angel now?"

Cosette sighed and wrapped an arm around Madeleine's shoulders, pulling her in close. "That's right, sweetheart. He's a beautiful angel in heaven now."

Madeleine pursed her lips, thinking, and looked down at the angel ornament again. "I wish he hadn't had to go to heaven so soon," she said. "I wanted there to be someone littler than me. I'm tired of always being the littlest."

Cosette ran a hand over her daughter's hair. "Perhaps someday," she said slowly, "when the time is right... you'll have a new little brother or sister."

Marius, watching, had to blink back tears. They had just buried their last baby, and Cosette's body hadn't even fully healed the difficult labor, but she still found it in her to hope that they might have another one someday. It was one of the bravest things that he'd ever seen, and he had to look away to keep from tearing up. He looked at the tree, and for the first time, it occurred to him to wonder...

" _Bichette_ , how did you get this tree home?" he asked suddenly. _Bichette_ was his nickname for Angelique. Marius had one for each of his children; Ultime was _chouchou_ , and Madeleine was _bijou_. "Don't tell me you carried it all by yourself."

And only then did Angelique remember the kind old man who'd carried the tree home for her. In her excitement over seeing Mama out of bed and trimming the tree, she'd forgotten all about him. "I didn't, Papa," she answered. "An old man came along and carried it for me."

Ultime gasped, wide-eyed. "Ooh, Père Noël is an old man!" he breathed. "Perhaps it was Père Noël!"

Angelique pursed her lips, considering this. The old man hadn't been dressed right for Père Noël. Angelique had seen pictures of Père Noël, and he always wore a long red cloak and white furs. "No, I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "I think he was just an ordinary old man."

"Did he look familiar to you?" Papa asked. "Perhaps he was one of the neighbors."

Angelique shook her head again. "I asked him, but he said he lived somewhere else and was just in Paris to visit. He was so old, his hair was all white, and he was wearing a funny yellow coat."

Mama's teacup and saucer suddenly rattled in her hand, and she quickly set them down on the table. There was a strange expression on her face — Angelique could not tell if she was happy or sad. She was silent for a moment, and then she patted the divan and said slowly, "Angelique... come and sit with me, sweetheart. I want to hear more about this man."

Angelique sat down beside Mama, feeling a bit bewildered. "Tell me everything," Mama said, "from the beginning," so Angelique did.

"I found a bunch of trees on the curb," she explained, "where that stand used to be, down the street. I was trying to carry one home, but it was too heavy, and I didn't think I'd ever get it here. That was when the old man came up beside me. I didn't even hear him. It was like..."

"...like he just came out of nowhere," Mama finished. Her voice was thick and her eyes were very bright, as if she were about to cry, and Angelique didn't understand why. "And he took it from you, because it was too heavy for you."

"Yes, Mama. He picked up the tree and carried it with only one arm."

"He must've been very strong," Papa said softly. He was now listening to her very intently too, and he and Mama exchanged a meaningful glance.

"He was, and he was so..." But Angelique paused, unable to find the right words to say how safe she'd felt walking alongside that old man, or how warm her hand had felt in his.

"He was so... what, Angelique?" Mama prompted, with a strange yearning in her voice.

Angelique pursed her lips. "So _familiar_. It was funny. I'd never met him before, but I felt like I had." She paused, hoping that one of her parents could explain this, how a stranger could feel like someone she'd known for years, but Mama and Papa were looking at each other again, their eyes full of some important meaning, so Angelique went on, "He carried it all the way to the front gate for me. I asked him to come inside too, but when I turned around to open the gate, he was gone — like he just disappeared."

There was a long silence. Mama and Papa both looked so surprised, as if Angelique had just said that an elephant from darkest Africa had carried the tree home for her. Finally, Mama said, "Well," as if she didn't know what else to say. She picked up her teacup, then put it back down. She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "Well."

"I remembered to say thank you, and... oh, I almost forgot! The man said I had to do him a favor, because he'd carried the tree home. Mama, he said to tell you that he wished you a merry Christmas. He said he wanted to tell you himself, but he couldn't."

There was another long silence, and then Mama said suddenly, "I know why that man felt so familiar to you, sweetheart."

"You do? Why?"

Mama smiled, but her voice was shaky. "Because... I believe he was an angel."

Angelique frowned, puzzled. It seemed to her that Mama was being rather silly. Didn't angels stay up in heaven with God? "But he didn't have wings," she argued. "Or a halo, or a harp."

"Well, sometimes angels don't have those things. Sometimes they look like ordinary people. Do you remember the Bible story about the travelers who came to Abraham's tent?"

"Yes, they were angels in disguise," Angelique nodded, but then she frowned again, her stubborn mind wanting more solid proof. "But... how do you _know_ he was an angel? How do you know he wasn't just an ordinary old man?"

Mama dabbed at her eyes again. "Oh, I just know it. You'll understand when you're older, darling."

Grown-ups were always saying that she would understand things when she was older. Angelique had gotten tired of hearing it, but this time, she didn't mind. She supposed that there were some things that she could wait for. She smiled and looked at the tree, which was now handsomely trimmed, its gold and silver ornaments shining in the fireglow. They wouldn't have had this tree tonight, if not for that old man.

"Well, whoever he was," she said, "I'm awfully glad he found me when he did."

Mama pulled her close and stroked her hair. "Me, too," she whispered.

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This might seem like the end, but there is one more chapter to go. Please review! :)


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter just might the sappiest thing I've ever written! You've been warned.

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Later that night, after Ultime and Madeleine had fallen asleep, Angelique lay awake in her bed. The door to her room was open, and if she listened closely, she could hear Mama and Papa still talking downstairs. She couldn't make out their words, but their voices sounded urgent. When she suddenly heard their front door open and close, she thought that perhaps the old man had come back. She knew, deep down, that it was silly hope — if he came back at all, it wouldn't be this late at night — but she couldn't help it. She so wanted to see him again.

Angelique slipped out of her bed and crept downstairs to the landing. When she crouched down and pressed her face against the railing, she could see most of the parlor beneath her. Mama was there, still sitting on the divan, looking as if she were waiting for something. After a moment, the front door opened and closed again, and Papa came into the parlor.

"I thought I was seeing things at first," he said softly. "I went to the sidewalk, and you can see two sets of footprints coming down the street in the snow, Angelique's and another set, a bigger one."

Mama gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. "Y-you can? Really?"

Papa nodded and went on slowly, "You can see where Angelique's turn to come inside, but the other footprints — they just _stop_. They don't... lead off anywhere."

Angelique's mouth fell open a bit as she listened. How could that old man have disappeared without leaving any footprints behind him?

Suddenly Mama burst into tears, crying as hard as Angelique had ever seen her cry. "It was Papa," she said over and over, through her sobs. "It was him, Marius, I know it was." And Papa was holding her in his arms, saying something soft and soothing that Angelique couldn't make out.

Angelique laid down on the rug on the landing and stared up at the ceiling, thinking. _It was Papa,_ Mama had said, but she didn't mean Angelique's papa. She called him Marius, of course. Could she have meant her own papa? But... he was dead. Angelique called Grandfather Gillenormand her grandfather, but she knew that he was actually her _great_ -grandfather, and that all of her grandparents were in heaven. Mama's mother had died when she was just a little girl, younger than Angelique was now, and her father died right after she and Papa were married. His name was Ultime, too.

Mama couldn't remember her mother, but she had told Angelique and her siblings about her father, about how kind and gentle he'd been. On nights when they couldn't sleep, she would say, _Close your eyes, and I'll sing you a song my papa used to sing to me when I was little._ And when they wanted to hear a story, she always began with, _Sit down, and I'll read you this one. My papa used to read this to me when I was your age._ Angelique knew his handwriting very well, for it was in the children's Bible, the collection of Aesop's fables, and all the story-books that had been Mama's. _To my Cosette, with love from Papa,_ he'd written in each one.

Then Angelique remembered the kind, strong old man who'd carried the tree home for her, and everything seemed to fit together like a picture puzzle — how warm her hand had felt in his, how he'd moved with Mama's motions, how he said he'd come down to Paris for a visit, how he'd asked Angelique to tell Mama merry Christmas. And hadn't he called her by name, too? Angelique didn't remember ever telling him her name.

Was it really possible? Had she really met her grandfather, come down from heaven? The idea was exciting and a little scary, like meeting a ghost, but the longer Angelique thought about it, the more natural it seemed. Christmas was the season for miracles to happen, wasn't it? Just this evening at church, the priest had read a passage from the Gospels about angels filling the sky when Jesus was born. Surely if there was one night of the whole year when her grandfather could come down to earth from heaven, then this was it, Christmas Eve.

From downstairs, Mama's sobs were tapering off. Her voice was calmer now, and Angelique caught snippets of her words. "...that yellow coat... glad that at least... think he wanted me to know that the baby is with him now..."

Angelique didn't remember falling asleep there on the landing, but suddenly she was waking up as footsteps thumped upstairs, coming closer. She cracked her eyes open and saw Papa's feet beside her on the landing.

"Angelique? What are you doing sleeping on the stairs? I nearly stepped on you," he said, as he stooped over her and picked her up. "I suppose you were hoping to catch a glimpse of Père Noël. Come on, _bichette_ , let's get you back into bed." And even though she was a big girl now, nine-years-old, she smiled, laid her head against Papa's shoulder, and let him carry her to her room and tuck her back into bed.

"You quite saved Christmas tonight, _bichette_ ," Papa said softly, as he smoothed the blankets over her and kissed her cheek. "I don't know what we'd've done without you. Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Papa," she whispered. She was tired, but she didn't fall asleep right away. She rolled onto her side and titled her head to look out her window at the stars. They twinkled in the dark sky, and she imagined the white-haired old man in the yellow coat looking down at her from them. This wasn't been the worst Christmas of her life after all, and even if there were no presents tomorrow morning, Angelique decided that she didn't mind. She'd met her grandfather, and her mama had felt well enough to get out of bed, and no presents could be better than that.

"Goodnight, Grandfather," she whispered to the stars.

 **FIN**


End file.
